Romantically and Sexually and Stuff
by R.L. Woodson
Summary: Takes place during 7x6, Slash Fiction. When Sam and Dean find the Leviathans masquerading as the Winchesters, the monsters let Sam in on a little secret Dean's been keeping.


**Title:** Romantically and Sexually and Stuff

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Takes place during 7x6, _Slash Fiction_. When Sam and Dean find the Leviathans masquerading as the Winchesters, the monsters let Sam in on a little secret Dean's been keeping.

**Disclaimer:** This takes place during 7x6. Much of the dialogue credit goes to the talented writer John Showalter. Anything pertaining to Wincest is all me.

**Romantically and Sexually and Stuff**

Leviathan Dean bit into the burger, chewing thoughtfully. "Y'know," he said to Leviathan Sam, mouth full of food, "he had one of these every day. And in his heart, he thinks they're almost as good as sex. This," Dean threw the burger back onto the plate, "is disgusting."

Leviathan Sam gave an unamused chuckle and pushed the plate of salad away. "Dead plants with creamy goo. It's like..." he made a face, "eating self-righteousness. I mean, you tell me which is worse."

"Honestly, you know what? I just can't stand the guy. Talk about a hero complex. And he doesn't have relationships, no, he has applications to sainthood." Dean shook his head. "Oh, and he thinks he's funny. Thinks he's a damn comedian."

Sam leaned in close. "Who has two thumbs and a full blown bats in the belfry?" He pointed both thumbs towards himself with an exasperated look. "I'm serious, it's like there's nothing but Satan-Vision on the inside." He looked down at himself. "I mean, how he's walking around in a jacket with detachable arms is," he huffed, "beyond me."

"And the worst part is the sick-o lust that he has for his brother. It's like I'm wading through fantasies of the two of them together." Dean shuddered.

"Seriously?" Sam actually smiled. "I'm drowning in that shit over here. Sam practically kisses the ground he walks on. He's so head-over-heels that he can't even see straight."

Dean pointed at Sam. "And he doesn't know about this?" he then pointed to himself.

"Not a clue." Sam shook his head.

"Huh." Dean chuckled. "They really do have problems."

"Well in that case," Sam reached for the semi-automatic weapon he had under his jacket. "Let's turn up the heat."

Sam was so angry, handcuffed to that table. The Leviathans had been parading around as the two brothers and violently murdering people in each town they had saved lives in. One step in Ankeny, Iowa, and the cops had found the real Winchesters only yards away from the Leviathans. Oh, Sam was angry. They had been so close. Now the FBI was on its way, and so were Leviathan Sam and Dean. Sam banged his fist on the table, as far as the handcuff would let him.

He and Dean were in separate rooms, which he hated. It had happened few times before; the authorities thought that splitting the two up would make them more vulnerable. It never worked. Their stories matched, every time. Sam knew what Dean would say and Dean knew what Sam would say in every situation, so that was never really the problem. Sam's problem was, well, separation anxiety, as stupid as it sounded.

For now, Sam was alone to rot with the fear and confusion he harbored inside himself. He thought about his big brother. Dean would be pacing in the little cell they put him in. Sam remembered seeing one officer head over with a phone. Dean would call Bobby, and hopefully Bobby had found a way to kill the monsters. Dean would find a way out of this, Sam was sure of it. As much as Sam hated to say it, Dean really did save his ass at nearly every corner, and though it frustrated Sam, it always reminded him that Dean was there for him.

Sam let his head fall in his hands. He worried about Dean, his Dean. Dean was strong, fast, and smart, but if anything happened to Dean, Sam knew what would happen to himself. He had experienced that horrible state of numbness and depression when he couldn't get him back. When Dean went to Hell, Sam had finally come to terms with the feelings he had been denying for so long. He loved his brother, romantically. More than anyone he had ever loved. And when Dean came back, he had been in such a bad place, but as always, Dean had fixed everything.

A stray tear dripped into his palm. _Get it together Sam!_ he snapped at himself. They were faced with death yet again, from the creatures they couldn't kill or defend themselves from. Sam knew the feeling: half accepting and half hell-bent on survival, but rarely had he faced death without Dean by his side.

"Okay get everything that says Borax on it and meet back here, go!" Dean said aggressively to the older Sheriff. He scampered off and Dean took one single moment to sag against the wall and prepare himself for the worst. Flashes of familiar-faced Leviathan chewing his Sammy to pieces crossed his mind. Sam might already be dead- but no. Dean would have felt it. His... love... was strong enough that Sam's mind had become his own. He had felt that way since practically forever, but he didn't want to corrupt his baby brother like that. He couldn't. He knew his destination for the twisted feelings he bottled up was Hell, again, and he wasn't going to drag Sammy down with him. And he sure as hell wasn't going to risk Sam leaving him, so the subject remained absolutely closed.

_Moment over_. Dean told himself. _Move_.

Dean drew his gun and moved towards the front of the building. A familiar shape ran up in front of him. He lowered his gun slightly. "Sammy?" The sweet expression on his brother's face changed to something cocky and blood-thirsty. "Not Sammy," Dean muttered, angry.

"Now Dean," the Leviathan said smoothly, "You wouldn't hurt the little brother you so desperately crave, would you?" Dean's face twitched. They knew, of course. Must be a skin-suit thing.

"I would hurt _you_." He raised his gun.

"Come on now, Dean," Leviathan-Sam did his best impression of his brother's puppy dog eyes- the look that got Dean every time. "You love me. You don't have to admit it. I know." The creature advanced on Dean, who shot directly at its chest.

_Not Sammy, not Sammy,_ he repeated over and over to himself as he shot again. The Leviathan didn't even blink. He threw Dean into the glass case, which shattered around him.

Dean hefted himself out of the shattered glass. He needed that borax, now, and something to cut the monster's damn head off. He looked around and- Ah, perfect. Next to him was an axe. He made quick work of the glass casing and hefted it up at Leviathan Sam.

"Cute," the monster said. "You really think you can get close enough to use it?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Not til you're burning." The Leviathan looked confused for a moment, then the sheriff appeared with a bucket of cleaning fluid and poured half of it on the Leviathan.

It shrieked and begun smoking, and the more pieces that melted off, the looser the knot in his chest became. With a clean swing, the Leviathan's head came off and his body dropped to the ground, lifeless. After a moment, he turned his attention to the other Leviathan, most likely stalking his baby brother. "Sammy," he muttered, running towards the opposite end of the building.

The knob rattled and the door opened. Sam's head snapped up to the familiar form of his big brother, to the rescue again. "Dean!" he exclaimed gratefully, then held out his bound wrists so Dean could get the handcuffs off.

Dean closed the door with a smirk. "I'm not your brother. But I am Dean adjacent!"

Sam stiffened with recognition. This was the monster, appearing exactly like Dean, down to the grin, but the little caring gleam in Dean's eyes was gone. Only the dark Leviathan shone through. This was certainly not his brother.

Sam remained still. "I just want to let you know how much I've grown to hate you and your brother since we've been wearing you." God, he sounded so much like Dean. It was painful. "I just don't get it," the Leviathan paced around the room, Sam completely motionless. "You could be anything. You're strong, you're uninhibited... you're smart enough, believe it or not." The creature turned back towards Sam. "But you're so caught up in being _good_ and taking _care_ of each other. More care than you know." It raised its eyebrows suggestively.

"Are you going to kill me," Sam said evenly, "Or is this some kind of 'play with your food' bull?" He glowered at the creature posing as his brother, fear rising. If Leviathan skin-suits were anything like shapeshifters', it knew their deepest thoughts and memories. He wondered if his own impersonator had told Leviathan-Dean about Sam's feelings.

The Leviathan leaned back, cocky. "Alright." He paused for a long moment, looking Sam over. "I guess that's why Dean never told you how grotesquely in love with you he is."

Sam's eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. He wanted to shout, _You're lying!_ but the words died in his throat.

"There it is, the look on your face, that is priceless! That's what I've been waiting for!" the monster grinned, unabashed. Was he lying? Or was it the truth? The confusion was stifling. "Now I can eat you." The Leviathan came up behind Sam, who breathed heavily. "Though I might actually play with my food first."

It chuckled, bring its face close to Sam's neck. "Dean will never know that all his love was reciprocated, because I'm going to eat you to the last bone." Sam closed his eyes, willing the tears to stay inside. "Look at me!" the monster roared. Sam opened his eyes and looked in the mirror on the wall across from the two. From the distance, it looked like his brother was looking at him hungrily with lust-darkened eyes, like Sam had always wanted him to. Just not this kind of hungry.

The Leviathan nipped at Sam's neck and it was so sexual that Sam began to grow hard. He knew it was a Leviathan, but the voice was still Dean's husky purr. "I know I can get you as hard as a rock for your big brother, and I want you to see that in the end, it'll be me touching you, the monsters you dedicated your life to hunting. And know that you will never ever have-"

The door blasted open with a bang, the real Dean standing there, eyes blazing. Without a word, he splashed some sort of liquid onto the creature and it begun to burn and smoke. The Leviathan roared in pain, and with the swing of a red axe, the fake Dean's head came off and the body slumped to the ground.

Sam covered his face against whatever liquid it was. What had just happened? Seeing Dean gank that monster in five seconds flat did nothing to quell his still growing hard-on. "Wow, that felt good," Dean muttered.

The Sheriff unlocked Sam's cuffs and spoke to Dean about the FBI. It was a blur as Dean helped Sam up and dragged him back to their motel after taking care of everything, like he always did.

They didn't talk much, except to make sure neither were injured during the fighting. Sam sat in the Impala, thinking about what the Leviathan had said. Would it have any other reason to lie? If the only reason it had told Sam about Dean's love for him was to cause him pain, he could have used just about anything to do the trick. There were a lot of things that could cause Sam pain.

In the motel, Sam wondered what the Leviathan had told Dean. The same thing? He glanced over at his big brother, ever vigilant about the state of their weapons. Dean wasn't behaving differently. If something that big had been said, Dean would at least be a little bit twitchy. Sam knew him well enough to notice the subtle signs. He should just let it go, chalk it up to monsters being monsters, but Sam wanted to know. He needed to know.

"Dean," he mumbled from his own queen bed.

Dean looked up from cleaning his guns. "Yeah Sam?"

"Earlier, the Leviathan said something to me-"

"C'mon Sam, you know those thinks are lying sons of bitches, don't believe anything they said." Dean begun to clean again, but wouldn't look Sam in the eye.

With a new resolve, Sam got up and sat by Dean on the couch. "Dean, I need to know." Dean continued cleaning the guns and avoiding eye contact with Sam. "Do you love me?" Sam thought he sounded far more girly than necessary, but he wasn't thinking too much anymore. He just needed to know.

Dean's hands stilled on the guns for a moment, then he resumed cleaning. "'Course I love you, Sammy, you're my little brother."

"No, I think you know what I mean. The Leviathan in your meat suit told me that you were in love with me. Like romantically and sexually and stuff." Sam fell silent as Dean's hands stilled again. Everything was silent for a moment. "Tell me the truth, Dean," Sam whispered.

"What do you want me to say?" Dean snapped, suddenly angry. "That I've got sick feelings for my baby brother? That I want to do so many things to you that a brother never should? That you should run far, far away from me because I'm so perverted? Seriously, Sam, what did you exp-"

Sam cut him off by smashing his lips to Dean's. The kiss was sloppy and full of teeth, and ended quickly. Dean just stared at his brother, emerald eyes wide with shock.

"They didn't tell you about my feelings, did they?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head wordlessly. "When I was cuffed to the table and the Leviathan was taunting me, he told me that I would die knowing that we both wanted each other without me ever being able to act on it. That was the worst thing he could come up with."

They were silent for a moment. "So," Dean's voice was gruff. "You're in love with me? Romantically and sexually and stuff?" It was Sam's turn to nod.

He felt a strong hand on his cheek that pulled his darting eyes up to Dean's evergreen ones. "Me too, then," Dean whispered, before capturing Sam's lips again with his own. Sam wrapped his arms around his big brother's neck, fingers running through his short hair. Dean's hands snaked their way up Sam's back and squeezed him as he pushed Sam down onto the couch, guns forgotten. The kiss deepened, tongues clashing and fingers searching for purchase on the other's bodies.

"Bed?" Sam gasped as Dean's teeth latched onto his neck.

"Too far," Dean mumbled, rucking Sam's shirt up and kissing every inch of skin revealed. Sam struggled to unbutton Dean's flannel, but Dean ripped it off before he could finish, buttons popping. Sam's shirt was off next, and then his pants. Dean licked his lips at the sight of his brother's erection.

Sam loved that look from Dean, the one of hunger and desire. This was the right look. The emerald of the older man's eyes was just a sliver around the lustful dilated pupils, his lips kissed-red and parted. "Sammy," he growled, the noises shooting straight to Sam's throbbing member. The younger Winchester's moan caught in his throat as Dean claimed his mouth again, skin touching hot skin.

Dean had imagined this moment more times than he could count. He always thought it would be slow and romantic; Sam loved the sappy heartfelt stuff. But no, their kisses were rough, Dean's nails scraped down his brother's back, the long hair in his fingers twisted roughly... and Sam was loving it.

"Dean," Sam broke the kiss with a groan as his big brother's hand found his diamond-hard length. "Dean, wait."

Dean stilled, suddenly nervous. "What? Did we go to far? Do I need to stop? What-"

"Dean, shut up," Sam grinned up at his brother and pushed him back, manhandling him until Dean was on his back with Sam on top. At Dean's questioning look, Sam palmed him through his jeans. "I want to do this first." The younger Winchester nearly ripped Dean's jeans off. Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam to be careful, those were new pants, but then Sam's tongue was on him through the thin briefs and the words died in his throat.

"God, fuck, Sam," Dean moaned, fingers sinking into his brother's silky hair. Sam teased until he bucked his hips up. "Sammy, please," Dean grunted, fingers tightening in his hair.

Sam complied, and Dean heard a distinct ripping sound. So much for that pair of underwear. Then there was heat and wetness on him and he didn't care anymore. Sam was... Sam was amazing. His tongue pressed in all the right places and his cheeks hollowed just tight enough and his hands touched what his mouth couldn't reach.

Sam moaned, enjoying Dean's fingers in his hair. He could tell what Dean liked by the movement of his fingers. He tugged the locks tightly and scratched his blunt nails over his scalp and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. After only a few minutes of this, Dean's grip tightened and pulled Sam off him.

"Not yet," he growled, pushing Sam back against the couch once again. Without preamble, Dean fisted Sam's length and dragged his fingers up and down at a torturously slow pace.

Sam moaned deep in his throat, trying to spread his legs more. "Ungh, Dean," he gasped, bucking up when the pressure was removed. Dean's fingers traced lightly over Sam's balls before stopping at his puckered hole. "Please," he gripped Dean's side as if that would make Dean move faster. Dean probably thought that Sam had never done anything like this. He was right, in a sense; Sam had never been with a man, but he had learned how to open himself up and that was good enough for this situation. "If you don't," Sam said, low, "Then I will."

That snapped Dean to action. There was a small bottle of gun oil still sitting on the table from when Dean had been cleaning their guns. He grabbed it and dripped some on his fingers. It wasn't grade A lube, but it was close enough. With his eyes fixed on Sam's face, the older Winchester slowly pushed his finger past the pink skin, past the few rings of muscle, and up inside against his silky walls.

Sam was used to the burn, and instead focused on the feel of Dean's thick finger inside him. He hummed contently as Dean withdrew and pushed back in. "Another," he breathed, and Dean pushed another in. After a few thrusts, Dean shifted the angle of his fingers and Sam writhed beneath him. "GodfuckDeanpleaseagain," he keened, pushing himself down on his brother's fingers.

Dean's member twitched violently at Sam's words and face. His face... Dean was nearly salivating at that wrecked expression. He pushed on that little magic button with every thrust until he felt he might finish, untouched, right there. His fingers stilled. "Sammy," he murmured. The unspoken question hung in the air. _Can I...?_

"Yes, Dean, right now," Sam commanded, eyes only half open.

The older Winchester slicked up his member and had it positioned at Sam's now ready entrance impossibly quickly. He knew from Sam's lack of hesitation or show of pain that Sam had definitely had fingers in his ass before, but he had never seen his brother with another guy, and through his lust-filled haze, he began to worry about hurting Sam-

Sam had other ideas, though. When Dean was being slow with his thinking face on, Sam dug his fingers into his brother's hips and sheathed him all the way to the base in one stroke. Dean's thinking face fell right off, replaced by his 'oh fuck' face. As with his fingers, the burn was there, but Sam liked the feeling enough to ignore it.

"Jesus Christ, Sam," Dean breathed, his erection twitching violently inside his brother.

"'M not fragile, Dean," Sam gasped, attempting to push Dean more into himself without falling off the couch. "Move!"

Dean pulled out and rammed back in, his restraint breaking. He couldn't help himself, with his Sammy finally there and willing, more than willing. He pounded into his brother, Sam's nails scratching angry red marks into his back. Their lips clashed, all teeth and tongue with years of desire behind it. Dean shifted his weight to aim for Sam's-

"OhyeahfuckDeanrightthere!" Sam's voice jumped an octave as Dean hit his prostate over and over again. Dean's mouth found Sam's neck and he latched on, sucking a purple bruise. His hand fisted Sam's hair roughly, drawing pornographic sounds from his brother. Dean was pressed so close to him that he didn't even need a hand on him; the sweat and slide of Dean's stomach on Sam's member was enough to send him over.

Sam was so hot and tight and Dean could swear he was clenching his muscles, and too soon, white clouded his vision.

"Sammy, I'm-"

"Dean, yes!"

They toppled over together, lightening bolts of pleasure rocketing up their spines. It seemed like a long time before they came down, heartbeats echoing in each other's ears. Dean eased himself out of Sam slowly and rolled, forgetting they were on a couch.

"Son of a bitch," he mumbled from the floor next to the couch. Sam laughed loudly, still feeling light and happy.

"That's why I said bed," Sam grinned at Dean as he rose, stumbling to the bathroom for a damp washcloth. They got cleaned up and into one of the beds.

To Sam's surprise, Dean cuddled up to him right away, humming contentedly. "My Sammy," he murmured, pressing his face to the top of Sam's head. Sam grinned against Dean's chest.

"I should send those douche bags a fruit basket," Dean said just as Sam was falling asleep.

"Huh?"

"Levia-me was the one who told you, right? They basically got us together."

Sam chuckled. "Borax-flavored fruit basket," Sam murmured, pulling the blanket higher.

"That's actually not a bad-"

"Go to sleep, Dean."


End file.
